


Russian Roulette

by the_music_and_the_mirror



Series: What Happens in Wakanda . . . [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: For Science!, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-23
Updated: 2018-05-23
Packaged: 2019-05-13 02:02:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14739962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_music_and_the_mirror/pseuds/the_music_and_the_mirror
Summary: Poking the bear . . .





	Russian Roulette

**Author's Note:**

> Brackets indicate Russian being spoken.

Two weeks later, Natasha drops in for a visit.  Steve’s perched on a stool in the kitchen, watching Bucky make dinner.  It’s become an almost-nightly ritual. Nat saunters through the door without knocking, as usual, as if she owns the place.  Makes herself comfortable at the counter, leaning on her elbows. Helps herself to a sip of Steve’s beer and pulls a face.

“Romanov.” Bucky greets her dryly, hiding a smile.  He secretly loves it when she visits.

“James.  Heard you were cured.  Had to come by and see for myself.”

He smirks at her.  “I heard that, too.  Glad you dropped by. I need your help.  None of these clowns speak Russian.”

Her eyebrow goes up.  “What.”

“Yeah.  I want to try an experiment.  See if that cure really took.”

Her other eyebrow goes up to meet the first one.

“No way.”

“Yes way.  C’mon, it’ll be fun.”

She’s not sure whether he’s joking or not.  She shakes her head. “I understand why you may not be clear on the definition of ‘fun’ but let me assure you, unleashing the Winter Soldier on Wakanda is not it.”

“Oh, come on.  Okoye could drop me with her pinky finger.  Besides, we won’t let it get that far. Steve’s got his fancy shields, he can stop me before I do too much damage.  And I found out there’s an emergency shut-off. Not gonna say it out loud, don’t want to pass out on top of this hot stove, but I’m sure you can find it in the manual.  I’ll even let you tie me up if you want. You’d enjoy that, right?”

She glares at him. “Leave me out of your kinks, lover boy.”

He ignores her, reaches into a drawer and pulls out the old, red leather-bound book.  Star imprinted on the cover. Slides it across the counter towards her.

She shakes her head, draws back.  “You can’t be serious.”

He fixes her with an icy blue-eyed glare.  Turns off the flame on the stove. “As the grave, Romanov.”

She looks over at Steve.  He’s looking a little pale.  Tense. “Are you . . .”

Steve shrugs slowly.  Says in a tired, resigned voice, as if they have been arguing about this for weeks, “He really wants to do this.  I can’t talk him out of it. I don’t know, I’m out of ideas.”

Bucky’s just standing there, wooden spoon resting on the edge of the skillet, left hand on his hip, waiting.  He knows her. She can’t resist a challenge.

Natasha presses her lips into a thin line.  “Fine. Give me the book.”

She snatches it, flips through it until she finds the page.  Looks Bucky straight in the eye, staring him down.

 

[Longing]

[Rusted]

[Seventeen]

[Daybreak]

[Furnace]

[Nine]

[Benign]

[Homecoming]

[One]

[Freight Car]

 

He snaps to attention, spine stiff, heels clicking together.  Expression blank, eyes empty. Thousand-yard stare.

[“Ready to comply.”]

“Oh fuck,” Natasha whispers, eyes going wide, tensing for a fight.

 

Except he can’t maintain it.  His blank expression cracks. He doubles over, laughing.  At the far end of the counter, so does Steve, laughing so hard he’s crying, tears streaming down his face.  Clinging to the countertop for support.

Natasha stares.

“What.  What are you . . . Are you kidding me?!  ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!” She shrieks at them.

Still laughing hysterically, Bucky reaches for the freezer, grabbing for a bottle of vodka and a shot glass.  Wiping tears from his eyes with one hand, he pours her a shot with the other.

She takes it, glaring at him.  Tosses it back. “Fuck you, Barnes.”

He hands her the bottle.  She pours another shot, turns to glare at Steve, who’s still trying to recover.

“Fuck you, too, Rogers.”

“No thanks, Nat.  I’m set,” Steve gasps and dissolves into another fit of giggles.

Bucky’s ears turn as red as the book.  Still chuckling, he goes back to cooking.  Sets out three plates.

“I’m going to shoot both of you,” she assures them, demurely sipping her third shot.

Instead, she stays for dinner.  She just can’t stay mad at her boys.


End file.
